


Matters of trust – In seven parts

by Buggirl



Category: Fallout 4
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-09-18
Updated: 2017-09-17
Packaged: 2018-08-15 14:52:31
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 5,667
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8060752
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Buggirl/pseuds/Buggirl
Summary: Kisses are mere manifestations of building trust between two people.  Trust takes time, and kisses come slowly to those who are broken.





	1. A kiss after battle

**Author's Note:**

> *This story is adapted from an old Dragon Age story that I failed to finish because of fandom nonsense. This version is better :)

The first kiss is not really a kiss. It’s accidental. A reaction to sheer exhaustion and exhilaration on Mitch’s part. Just before dawn, the Brotherhood had stormed into a super mutant camp just below the Revere Satellite Array. The greenskins had set themselves up underneath the large satellite dishes, an easy target for the Brotherhood, so the other Paladins and Knights had believed.

_But it wasn’t._

This was a stronghold, with more than a few bunkers. Recon failed to pick up that fact and Mitch was the first to point out that they were emerging from underground like ants escaping from boiling water being poured in their nest.

A suicider took out one of the Vertibirds before all the soldiers were out and before they knew what was happening. Confusion, gunfire and smoke saw the second Vertibird blown from the air. They had no time to count the dead before there was another suicider, luckily-- taken out by a sniper within yards of where Mitch and Danse stood and fought.

The battle was hard fought and hellish, all of them pushed to the limits of their armor and skills. A bunker full of mutants matching the squad bullet for bullet. Mitch had his first three in a row kill. The constant trickle of sweat into the collar of his flight suit irritated his neck and made his stubble itch but his attention was on his squad, on the mutants calling out to them and on making sure that no one else would die that day, not if he had a say in it.

For the first time since he’d left the vault he felt he belonged somewhere, that this choice might be the right one despite the chaos and death currently raining around him. Prior to that he’d been a man out of time and out of place. The months rolled on, one then two then six and his usual swaggish nature and good humor took a beating. This hadn’t changed since he joined the Brotherhood, he’d earned several punches just for being himself and to add insult to injury he was no closer to finding his son than he was when he joined.

“Ad Victoriam,” he said when a punch hit his jawline. The first few in the mess hall when he took the wrong seat. “Ad Victoriam,” he wheezed when a blow hit his gut. The next few times in the showers when he took the wrong flight suit off a hook. “Ad Victoriam,” he said and laughed as he took several knocks to the chest and ended up on the ground. These last few were on the flight deck and it was only Danse’s intervention that stopped a kick to the head.

After the last Super mutant was killed they’d been told there would be at least a two hour wait for evac. So they exited their power armor, and Mitch, whilst on the adrenaline high of a battle won, expected more punches from a bunch of souped up Knights. Instead, he was given several congratulatory slaps on the back. Hard enough to make him stumble but not fall.

Mitch grabbed Danse’s shoulder with a firm hand, then the back of his neck, leaned in and kissed the man’s forehead, hard and fast and without thinking. The most concentrated abraxo couldn’t remove the smile from his face. “Ad Victoriam,” he said with a lopsided half smile failing to notice his mentor’s cheeks blush.

Danse returned with an awkward but elated smile of his own. “Ad Victoriam, brother,” he replied and turned his face away.

Mitch didn’t notice that either.

Once the dead were placed in body bags and left near the road ready for transport when the Vertibird arrived, the squad sat near the bunker, quiet and contemplative as they waited. There was little talk. Mitch and Danse leaned with their backs against a concrete barrier. Danse’s attention focused on what went wrong, his lips pinched between fingers and a stern look never leaving his face. Mitch’s attention was on the dead that were gone, then when his stomach rumbled, on where the hell he might be allowed to sit in the mess that night. When they turned to look at each other their gaze lingered longer than usual and Mitch knew that for today at least, there would be no punches coming his way.


	2. An unexpected kiss

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The second kiss is unmistakably a kiss, and recognized by both of them for exactly what it is.

“I don’t understand how this is useful, MacGyver,” Danse said as he tossed his line into the water. “We can’t possibly eat what we catch. And aren’t we supposed to be helping that friend of yours at Covenant?”

Mitch sighed and leaned back on the bench where they sat. “Not the point, Danse.”

Danse furrowed his brow and stared at Mitch. “What is the point then?”

Mitch waved his hand in the air, the other hand remained firmly on his fishing rod. “To chill, relax, hang loose, shoot the breeze, you know, just be tranquil and take in the scenery. Besides there really isn’t much else to do.”

Danse picked up a beer and took a swig. “Except drink.”

Mitch’s laugh was loud and carried across the water to the otherwise quiet Boathouse. “Now that’s what I’m talking about.” He picked up his beer and clinked it against Danse’s.

He’d give this a week, he had more pressing things to do but he needed this, five intense campaigns one after the other had left him drained and tired and on edge in general, the usual Brotherhood way it appeared. After speaking with Preston about setting up more settlements, he’d told him with all the duties and missions from the Brotherhood he’d had time to do very little for the Minutemen. Preston had nodded and understood and asked him to do what he could, that was all that he could ask. As a result, Taffington Boathouse had been a personal project for him, a place to come and relax. He’d built a wire fence around the property, repaired the roof, windows and doors and set up a small but practical kitchen and bathroom. Eventually there would be settlers here, but for now, this was a home away from home. Prior to clearing out the place, and to his benefit, the neighbors at Covenant were amiable and had hosted him numerous times in exchange for handyman services, of which he excelled. But it was here, he was most comfortable, a bench overlooked the water and was a perfect spot for a quiet bit of fishing and a cold ale, often alone. But not today.

“This is peaceful,” Danse said.

A smirk broke across Mitch’s face. “Makes for a change from the constant hum of the airship.” He watched as his lure bobbed up and down in the water. They’d been here for several hours, since late afternoon and they hadn’t got a single bite. However, they had consumed a fair amount of beer. And although he didn’t mind the constant noise of engines from incoming and outgoing vertibirds the effect of alcohol and the quiet lapping water against the boathouse pillars was definitely a nice change.

Danse interrupted Mitch’s thoughts. “I wanted to let you know that I have leave from Elder Maxson and the Sentinel to tell you that you have been promoted to Knight.”

Mitch turned to Danse a surprised look dressing his face. “We’ve been here two days, Danse, yet you waited until now to tell me?”

“Well– you were so eager to get here I thought it could wait, and our first day it was inappropriate to talk about Brotherhood internal matters whilst civilians were present. I apologize, perhaps I should have told you aboard the Prydwen, before we left.”

Mitch laughed again and Danse gave him a confused look.

“Yeah I was pretty eager. So - no need to apologize, but ahhh- Knight hey?” Mitch turned to look at the water, picked up a stone at his foot and threw it far into the river before turning back to his mentor and contemplating his face for a moment. He was an earnest man that’s for sure. A little on edge and cautious definitely, but all these Brotherhood soldiers were that way, he had seen his own demeanor turning that way too. Like bolts screwed too tight, some you could loosen with a simple shake of the wrist, others took a little work, more than a few were well rusted and unmovable. He could see Danse- see that the man was actually _enjoying_ himself, maybe it wouldn’t take too many turns of the wrench to loosen the man up completely. At least the beer seemed to be helping.

“MacGyver, can I ask–” Danse scratched the back of his head before he continued. “Can I ask what you’ll be doing next week? After I leave to go back to the Prydwen? Are you going to stay here, help your pretty friend in Covenant out?”

Mitch bit his lip and screwed up his nose. He wasn’t sure how much to say, they had talked a lot about their pasts, but Mitch had given no indication on his plans, or in fact how much he wanted the Brotherhood to know. “Are you asking as Paladin Danse, my supervisor in the Brotherhood of Steel and mentor or are you asking as Danse my fishing and drinking buddy?”

“Would I get an answer with one and not the other?” he asked.

“Maybe,” he replied. Mitch laced his fingers around the beer bottle he was holding and looked out on to the river again.

Danse nudged him with his shoulder. “Let’s say buddy then.”

“We’ll I’ll make no secret of it then. I’m looking for my son. I’ll be taking Nick Valentine with me, he’s my best link so far.”

“The synth?”

“Yes, the synth,” Mitch said and tilted his head towards Danse, he could see the mans mouth tight. “Problem?”

Danse’s hand went over his mouth and then rubbed over his beard, he shook his head. “No.”

Mitch’s brow rose. “Really?” He was waiting for the twitch in Danse’s features, the inevitable insult about ‘dirty synths’ or a talk about loyalty to the Brotherhood, but it never came. “You surprise me, Danse.”

“How so?” he replied and took another swig of beer.

“Why did you agree to come here with me?”

He gave a quiet smile and pulled on his rod. “You asked me.”

“Ahh come on now. Gotta be more to it than that, you never leave the damn Prydwen or the airport for that matter, unless it’s on official duties. Come on, spill it, you’ve had enough of those,” Mitch said and pointed to the upturned bottle currently being emptied into Danse’s mouth.

Danse finished draining the bottle and wiped a hand across his face. “To be honest I was told I needed to leave the Prydwen.”

Mitch snorted a laugh. “Why?”

Danse pursed his lips. “I guess it’s funny. Like you said, I rarely leave unless it’s on official duty. Orders and I just thought—maybe–” before he could finish there was a tug on his rod. “I think I got something.”

Both men stood, knocking over several bottles into the water in the process. As Danse held on to the rod Mitch began to laugh again. “This is it, got a big one by the looks.”

Danse lowered and reeled in what he could, just like Mitch had shown him to do earlier, the man took to it, like a fish to water. Mitch laughed at his unheard analogy and watched as Danse reeled in the last of the line.

The fish was as long as one of their arms and pretty fat, but like most other wildlife in this place it appeared severely mutated. Danse had a big grin on his face has he pulled the fish up to get a better look.

“Goddamn, nice catch,” Mitch said and slapped Danse on the back.

Danse’s brow knitted together. “Now what do I do with it?”

“Here.” Mitch grabbed the fish under the gill unhooked the hook from its mouth and threw it back in the water. “I normally kiss them, but that is one ugly fucker.”

“That was— that was fun,” Danse said.

“Now you’re getting the hang of it. Fishing is long bouts of peaceful contemplation followed by momentary excitement, sometimes at least, mostly its just peaceful contemplation and drinking too much,” he said and slapped his back again. “Good stuff, soldier.”

At that point they both made to sit down but at the angle they stood they bumped heads and their noses grazed one another when they glanced up. The smile that curled across Danse’s face felt like a confirmation of their growing friendship and Mitch smiled in reply. Before he knew what was happening their lips were touching, tentative and stiff. Mitch could taste the beer from the day of drinking and for some reason he was surprised at how soft Danse’s lips felt on his.

When they parted, Danse’s hand remained on Mitch’s shoulder. He pulled it away and turned away from Mitch, laughed and then coughed. “More beer?” he asked.

“Yeah sure,” Mitch said, trying to sound as casual as he could. He sat down and watched Danse disappear back inside the Boathouse.

He leaned back on the bench, crossed his arms over the back of his head, felt the grin widen on his face, thought about wrenches and observed the days dying light dance on the waves.


	3. A kiss before slumber

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This kiss, Mitch was too numb to feel.

It was after midnight and he sat alone on the flight deck of the Prydwen, tossing baseballs and taking swigs from a vodka bottle. This was the quietest time here on the Brotherhood airship. Patrols were restricted to entry ways and the bridge. He was singing, occasionally laying his head low, trying to push out his thoughts that had bought him here, and drunk enough he didn’t realise he sat close to the edge.

He threw out a ball and took a mouthful of drink. “Take me out to the ball game, take me out to the crowd; Buy me some peanuts and Cracker Jack, I don’t care if I never get back–”

“Knight MacGyver,” Danse said from behind him. “What are you doing?”

Mitch turned to see who addressed him. He tilted his head and smiled. “Danse! Come join me. Still plenty left!” He shook the bottle before turning it upside down. “Awww shit, it’s empty.” He fell backwards against Danse’s legs, then swayed forward and Danse reached out and grabbed him by his flight suit collar.

“This is highly inappropriate behavior on the Prydwen, Knight. This level of drunkenness is not tolerated. Captain Kells won’t–”

“Pfffft. Ahh come on now Danse, I’m sure the Sentinel won’t mind. She likes me. A lot,” he turned his head up, nodded and winked at Danse.

Danse let go of his suit and pushed him away. “Whatever the relationship is between you and the Sentinel– I’m sure Kells or even Elder Maxson would not tolerate this. I highly doubt the Sentinel would either.”

“Haaaa! Good one! My relationshop—relationshit—relationsshshhhh. Arrrr doesn’t matter.” Mitch waved his hand dismissively and bowed his head. “Apolog, apolig. God Danse, you’re such a party pooper, I’m sorry okay?”

“Why are you here? You should go back to your bunk. Sleep this off.”

Mitch’s tone took a sombre note. “I’ve missed it.”

Danse rubbed his forehead. “Missed what exactly?”

“Ten years of my son’s life. His formative years are gone. I can’t take him to his first ball game, I can’t tinker with him in my workshop. I can’t—“ He shook his head. “I can’t influence his early life, and that—that shit is important, Danse.” He swayed to standing then pointed his index finger into Danse’s chest while he spoke. “Don’t you see?”

He batted Mitch’s hand away. “So this is about your son. I—see.”

Mitch’s head lolled to one side drunkenly. “Do you? Really? The Institute has him and I—“

Danse’s head jerked back in surprise. “The Institute? Have you told the Sentinel or Elder Maxson this? You were with the Sentinel yesterday, did you mention it?”

Mitch looked away a ridiculous grin came to his face. “Uh, no, no I didn’t.”

“You were with her the whole–” Danse stopped, closed his eyes and grimaced. “So the rumors are true then, I usually don’t pay this sort of gossip any heed.”

“I don’t know what rumors you’re talking about–” Mitch slurred. “Well maybe I do.” He stopped and picked up the last baseball and threw it over the edge. “Okay maybe there’s truth to some of them, but it’s kind of complicated, for me anyway, but also not. Does that make sense?”

“No,” Danse replied and folded his arms across his chest.

“Danse– you and me–”

Danse put up his hand. “There is no need to explain. There is no you and me, you are a knight of the Brotherhood, I am a Paladin and the Sentinel is the Sentinel. Your personal dealings with me or anyone else are– irrelevant to the Brotherhood of Steel’s operations– unless it interferes, but knowing myself and knowing the Sentinel as I do, I highly doubt that any of her personal dealings with people will affect her Brotherhood duties in any way. You only need to explain why you thought it appropriate to be drunk and throwing items off the flight deck after hours. You’re drunk and out of line.”

“But–”

Danse interrupted him as Mitch stood swaying before him. “If you have knowledge of the Institute you need to divulge this to our hierarchy. Do I make myself clear, Knight MacGyver?”

Mitch saluted him and then fell to his knees laughing then looked up at the irritated Paladin before him. “You mad at me? I thought you liked me. Liked liked me that is.”

Danse grabbed his arm and pulled him to standing then led him inside the Prydwen by the back doors so as not to be seen by any of the Scribes or Knights on duty. Mitch’s bunk was thankfully closest to the door. They made little noise as the low hum of the Prydwen's engines was muted by the sounds of several snorers in the room. He placed Mitch on top of the covers still fully dressed in his flight suit.

Mitch grabbed his sleeve as he turned to leave. “Don’t leave, Danse, come, sit,” Mitch said in a hoarse whisper and patted the space beside his horizontal form. 

Danse sighed and shook his head but came and sat next to him. “What is it?”

“You have a father, Danse?”

He sighed. “No, I was an orphan. I have no memory of him.”

“A father figure then?”

“Of sorts, more a brother than a father, but likely similar.”

“And he is– he was important to you?”

Danse bit his lip. “Yes.”

Mitch was drunk but not too drunk that he could see the pained look that crossed Danse’s face. “Do you think you were important to him?”

He hesitated before answering. “Yes I do think– he made me think that, yes.”

“Then you understand.” Mitch sniffed loudly and closed his eyes for a moment before opening and staring at Danse. “How long will it take to forget about my son then? Ten years? Twenty? Have you forgotten?”

Danse took a deep breath. “You never forget. It’s yours until you die. It’s just finding the ability to live through it. It’s the Wasteland way. And you do what you have to do, to make it less–” He scratched his head and sighed.

“Make it less what?”

“Painful.”

Mitch smiled and reached his hand upward placing it on Danse’s upper chest. “You and I. We are much the same.” 

It was an intimate gesture that made Danse smile. “I doubt it, Knight MacGyver.” He replied. “Let’s talk again. I think disciplinary action is in order.”

Mitch chuckled, “Yes, yes and you’ll want details no doubt on my dealings with the Sentinel.”

“No, I won’t,” Danse said and shook his head.

“Liar.”

Mitch closed his eyes, alcohol and thoughts of his hands around Kellogg’s throat would be his only pacifier for a night’s sleep. He never felt the lips on his forehead or the whisper of ‘goodnight’ in his ear.


	4. An undisciplined kiss

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The fourth kiss is a rising passion and kinship that leads nowhere.

On any given day in the absence of a weather forecast, you never know which way the wind will turn. Today it blew from the south west. A storm brewed above, signaling an increase in rads as a faint green glow shimmered across the horizon. Mitch stood on the deck of the Prydwen, in front of Elder Maxson and a handful of other soldiers. It was bitterly cold despite it being well into spring, but Mitch didn’t feel it.  
  
A week ago he reached the Institute, the boy behind glass though, wasn’t his son, it was only when ‘Father’ stared into his eyes that Mitch knew, for it was his face, his eyes, reflected in a sixty year old man.  
  
He didn’t move when Maxson dismissed the group. Instead, he remained until all had left and the wind changed direction.  
  
Back in Danse’s quarters he sat and watched as the Paladin packed his bags.  
  
“You’re ready to do this, then?” Danse asked.  
  
Mitch gulped and shook his head. He knew the task. He was to be the betrayer of trust in this instance. Giving up the Railroad Headquarters was never going to be easy, but Maxson had wrested this from him, and when Mitch learned the reason why he was horrified. He’d spent little time with them, but these were just the little guys helping the little guys. Mitch was always about the little guys.  
  
“I’m going to sit this one out,” Mitch said. “I know it’s the coward’s way, but I can’t face them.”  
  
“You can’t. Elder Maxson gave an order, the Sentinel co-signed it. Are you going to disobey an order, Knight MacGyver?”

And there it was, Mitch thought, that incredulous tone Danse carried whenever Mitch told him he’s was going to do something Danse didn’t approve of or like. The man should have know him by now, if Mitch MacGyver has a way out of a situation, he’ll take it.  
  
“I’ll do more than that.” Mitch lifted his pipboy and pressed on the transporter button to take him back to the Institute.

* * *

There’s bar near Boston Airport where Mitch used to frequent before the war. It was the kind of place that if you were a regular and you paid your tab in a timely manner, it was as though you were returning to your own living room. Deep club lounge chairs, a pool table and jukebox with nothing too modern on it—crooners and jazz singers. If you wanted a drink and it was busy, you could walk behind the bar and retrieve it yourself, no questions asked.

This is where Danse found him, sitting at the bar and listening to a whining jukebox, a bottle of scotch in his hand.

Mitch didn’t turn his head when Danse entered.

“I thought I’d find you here, this is— becoming a pattern,” he said.

“I should get an unlisted number. Maxson send you?” Mitch said and took a swig and dropped the empty bottle at his feet.

“I made an excuse for you, told him you had a lead on the Institute.”

Mitch turned and stared at him. “Why would you do that? You play by the book, you don’t lie, you chastise me every chance you get when I fall out of line.”

Danse looked down and away from Mitch’s gaze and kicked the empty bottle away. “I see what’s going on with you, what you’ve told me, sounds like a nightmare. And I didn’t lie. You went to the Institute didn’t you?”

“And you went to kill a bunch of people that I betrayed.”

Danse looked up and crossed his arms. “There was no one there. No tech, some trace stuff, but nothing of value and no leads as to where they’d gone. You wouldn’t know anything about that would you?”

He turned back to the bar with a smirk across his lips. “Nope.”

Danse walked over and sat next to him. “MacGyver, you’re playing a dangerous game.”

Mitch swiveled his seat to face him. “Being scared of anyone who runs free seems like a whole waste of time. How is it dangerous to not want conflict? To look for a way out of this goddamn mess and where more people don’t lose their lives. Feels like the opposite of dangerous to me.”

“You can’t go AWOL again, I can’t cover for you.”

He tilted his head. “Why did you this time?”

Danse remained quiet.

“I tell you why then,” Mitch said and pointed at him. “You’re finally coming around. Learning to relax, see the world through other people’s eyes. People other than Elder Maxson and those buttoned up Brotherhood types.” Mitch could see he’d hit a nerve when Danse rubbed at his throat and a nervous tick twitched at the corner of his mouth. He leaned in close enough to hear Danse’s breath quicken and his own pulse raced in response. “Admit it Paladin, you think what I say has merit. That violence isn't always the answer. We’re a team and like a good team, we think alike, that’s how we hit home runs—a winning combination of moves.”

Danse gave a huff of a laugh. “You’re going to drag me from one disaster to another, MacGyver. Aren’t you?”

“One in, all in, Danse.” Mitch reached up and placed a hand on his shoulder, butting his forehead against Danse’s. The Paladin didn’t back away. “Give me some time, I’ll get there, I’ve just-- got a few things to sort out. I’ll step in line.”

“Somehow I doubt it, Knight,” he said.

Mitch ran his finger along the deep scar that graced one side of Danse’s face. “Some scars take time to heal. Some scars you can’t see. Give me time.”

To Mitch’s surprise Danse’s pressed his lips to Mitch’s, hurried and stiff as though someone might see them.

Mitch responded by putting his hand on Danse’s neck and squeezing the muscle. Danse softened and leaned in to him but Mitch broke from the kiss and placed his palms on either side of Danse’s head, stared into his eyes and pulled him in for an intense and passionate kiss. He wanted to draw Danse closer but the bar stools made for an awkward slant into one another. Danse’s hands flailed and then rested on Mitch’s knees. Mitch felt the tingle of Danse’s stubble and the salty taste of sweat on his upper lip mingled with aftertaste of the scotch.

When they finally broke, Danse’s cheeks were flushed and a dazed smile sat across his features. “I should get back to the Prydwen. When will you return?”

“Give me a day or two. Back on duty and ready to wreak havoc on the Commonwealth once again.” He sighed and gave him a large grin.

Danse stood, pursed his lips and nodded. “Are you sure?”

"Only a fool is sure of anything, a wise man keeps on guessing." Mitch gave a mock salute.

He shook his head. “What does that even mean in this context, MacGyver?”

Mitch shrugged. “I don’t know, I read it on the back of a cigarette pack once, seemed fitting.”

Danse appeared on the verge of replying, but instead he turned and walked towards the exit and out the door.

Mitch gestured to the skeleton on the other side of the bar. “Fill 'er up, Glen, looks like I lucked out tonight.”


	5. A kiss after hard truths

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This kiss comes after a realisation.

The Institute hall had an odour of antiseptic and-- nothing. Vacant of smells, sounds and the empathy he expected from others, from himself.

He wanted to repair the relationship he had with his son, sixty years absent of a father can’t be good for a man. Mitch wondered if he had anyone to rely on. If Shaun had anyone who told him it didn’t matter if he failed or succeeded. Did someone tell him they loved him? Was that declaration of love unconditional and unburdened by a want of a favor?

Mitch grew up in a loving family, he’d say nuclear if it didn’t sound so odd, given the circumstances of the world’s destruction. Happy, he’d been fucking happy. And love? He’d known love in spades. As a boy, as a teenager, as a young man. Backed up with the knowledge if anything ever fucked up, his mother, his father, his brother were there to welcome him home. Open arms and open hearts when he needed it most. He wanted it to be that way with his son too.

What that bastard Kellogg said was true: In another life you probably would have been a good father. But here-- in this terrible reality? You just don’t get that chance.

He didn’t want that chance anymore, he didn’t want to play dad to an aging manipulative version of himself. There was only one way, and it’s the Brotherhood way now.

Madison Li wanted information. On an old colleague, a lover maybe, it didn't matter what this man Brian Virgil is to her. But it mattered who he is to someone, enough that they lied about him, lied about his research, lied about his death.

“It’s that fucking simple,” he said to Danse after Li was safely ensconced on the Prydwen.

“Really, just like that? You’re going to give up your son? Am I even talking to Mitch MacGyver?”

He’d nodded and stepped out of his power armor. “Not sure what you expected I’d do, Danse. It’s not as if I had a fucking choice. What’s done is done. The moment that bastard's bullet killed my wife, the moment Shaun was stolen from her arms. Fuck them, fuck the Institute and fuck--." He was going to say ‘fuck Shaun’ but the words were thick in his mouth. Those words and thoughts, black and choking with enough power that he wasn’t sure they were his thoughts at all.

Danse tilted his head, moved forward and placed a hand on Mitch’s shoulder. “I know you don’t want to hear it, but-- Ad Victoriam, Brother.”

“Ad Victoriam,” Mitch replied. The sentiment hollow, his feelings, convoluted.

* * *

On the Prydwen, there’s no privacy; most times, he didn’t care. Neither did anyone else for that matter. How many times had he turned in his bunk to see soldiers fucking one another? More than a five-fingered widow can count. His hand would be slick on his cock, and he’d always come with a groan. No one looked at him; he was only another grunt relieving himself into his hand.

Six months passed since he joined the Brotherhood, and at times, he questioned why he joined. He knew it was right because it felt like slipping into an old habit. It didn’t take long for him to settle in, enjoy the routines it provided as well as its comforts. He could get three square meals a day. No repercussions for bartering weapons, alcohol or cigarettes. Chems too, but they weren’t his thing. Then the sex -- it always came back down to that --freely available.

Tonight he didn’t want his bunk, didn’t want to see others or for them to hear or see him. He just wanted Danse. At night, their fingertips searched for one another but were no more than languid touches. Kisses were frequent, soft and wanting, but not much more than a peck. Mitch wanted more, he needed it, and he was sure Danse did too.

At midnight, they found themselves wandering the flight deck. Then behind a bunch of crates. Their bodies pressed against one another and against the soft cloth of burlap sacks. Danse leaned against him and kissed him, his stubble tickling Mitch’s chin.

Mitch leaned his head back and smirked at the smiling and jovial paladin. “What was that? Have you finally removed the stick from your ass?”

Danse frowned. “What? I find myself, comfortable-- in your company.”

“You find yourself comfortable in my company.” Mitch gave a loud chortle. “Wow, such formality.”

“Shut up MacGyver,” he said and kissed Mitch again.

Mitch responded with a laugh into Danse’s mouth.

Danse broke from the kiss and shook his head. “Well at least that’s the Mitch MacGyver I know.”

Mitch’s brow furrowed as a hand moved to behind Danse’s neck. “What do you mean?”

“I mean today, when you came back with Doctor Li from the Institute. That wasn’t you. Not how I know you.” He shook his head and frowned again. “I know it’s been tough for you. Your son-- I’ve seen you struggle with what the Brotherhood is, but it hasn’t stopped me from --“

“From what?”

“Being invested in you, and your, well-- happiness I guess.”

Mitch gave a low chuckle and kissed him. “Invested. I like that. The truth is--” He looked down and away, swallowing back every negative thought he had on the Institute, on Shaun. “This is harder than I thought. Playing this role. The Institute will fall, and I’ll be there to watch it.”

Danse caressed Mitch’s chin. “We don’t know what’s to come; hell may rain down, on all of us, or maybe just us.”

He stared into Danse’s wide soulful brown eyes. “It’s not how I thought it would be, you and I. You get me, on a level I didn’t think--”

Danse paused to let Mitch finish but he said nothing further. “We can’t all be the hard man. I’m dutiful and fight for a cause. Courage is not turning away from hard truths. The Brotherhood is my life, and having you here, has made it-- better.”

Mitch gave him a soft smile. “I’ve never been a hard man either-- wait, that’s not true.” He bucked against him.

Danse gave a surprised laugh, gravelly and resonant in the small space they occupied.

“Now that is a sound I can get used to,” Mitch said and leaned in for another kiss.


End file.
